


love knows you all too well

by witching



Series: former believers [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Bastards in Love, Begging, Biting, Bondage, Bottoming from the Top, Comeplay, Communication, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Love as a Weapon, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Sex Toys, Teasing, Tenderness, Trans Elias Bouchard, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24465646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: "Peter Lukas is a decently sized man – he's by no means a giant, but he's got a good few inches on Elias, and he's hefty, muscled and built like a proper sailor, although he hasn't done a day of real manual labor in his life. He's fairly big, is the point, not to mention that he single-handedly funds about 50% of the Institute, and so he feels it's a bit unfair that Elias has so much power over him.It's hard to be too upset about it, at this exact moment. It's hard to be too upset about much of anything when Elias's mouth is on him, sucking deep bruises into the pale skin of his chest, his hips, his thighs."
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Series: former believers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765858
Comments: 13
Kudos: 196





	love knows you all too well

**Author's Note:**

> \- terms used for elias's body here: cunt, clit, tits, hole  
> \- this is a sequel to 'love is the beast' but you dont need to read that one to understand this one

_former believers, they beg for release_ _  
__as love looking down on them_ _  
__smiles and picks his teeth_ _  
__trapped in between heaven and hell_ _  
__he knows all the secrets_ _  
__you don't want to tell_ _  
__there's nowhere to run_ _  
__and there's nowhere to hide_ _  
__love knows you all too well_ _  
__he will find you_

_— concrete blonde, “the beast”_

* * *

Peter Lukas is a decently sized man – he's by no means a giant, but he's got a good few inches on Elias, and he's hefty, muscled and built like a proper sailor, although he hasn't done a day of real manual labor in his life. He's fairly big, is the point, not to mention that he single-handedly funds about 50% of the Institute, and so he feels it's a bit unfair that Elias has so much power over him. 

It's hard to be too upset about it, at this exact moment. It's hard to be too upset about much of anything when Elias's mouth is on him, sucking deep bruises into the pale skin of his chest, his hips, his thighs. But he knows it's going to get worse before it gets better, that Elias is going to make him work for it, make him suffer for it.

He twitches bodily when Elias breathes in the direction of his cock, achingly hard and criminally neglected. Unfortunately, the movement only manages to draw his attention to the sore rub of cloth around his wrists as he pulls fruitlessly against his bonds.

 _"Elias,"_ he hisses, all irritation laced with frustrated, hopeless arousal.

Elias looks up from between his legs, prim and innocent, hands resting casually on Peter's thighs. "Yes, dear?"

Peter scowls at him with as much undiluted annoyance as he can muster. "Get on with it," he grinds out through his teeth.

There’s this face that Elias makes that Peter has always hated, and he’s never tried to hide how much he hates it, which is how he knows now that Elias is absolutely doing it on purpose. Trying to get under his skin. His eyes narrow, lips pursed in a tight line that does little to conceal the amusement – no, the utter _glee_ he feels at making Peter squirm. He looks down at Peter, his icy blue eyes brimming with satisfaction, and tuts gently. 

“Actually,” Elias drawls, so posh and collected, “I don’t think I will.”

He sits back on his heels and retracts his hands from Peter’s skin, bringing them to rest in his own fully-clothed lap. It’s infuriating how put-together he looks as he scrutinizes Peter relentlessly, waiting for his reaction. 

The reaction is rather underwhelming, all things considered, as Peter simply grits out through his teeth, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not entirely convinced that you deserve the privilege,” Elias answers in the tone of an employer giving a quarterly review. “You’re crude, abrasive, impatient… I just think that perhaps you would benefit from a bit of discipline.”

Peter levels him with a glare that could freeze oceans. “You’re joking.”

“Insolence,” Elias chirps, “I’ll add that to the list. You're already in _this_ position for a reason, my love.”

“Fine,” Peter grits out through clenched teeth. “Fine, Elias. What do you want me to do?”

Elias grins, teeth too white and straight to be natural, and replies calmly, “I think you could stand to learn a lesson in communication.”

“No,” Peter snaps without hesitation.

“Look at you, already off to a brilliant start, conveying your wishes so… efficiently.” Elias pauses, tilts his head in Peter’s direction in a mocking facsimile of sympathy, a condescending mask of manufactured pride and praise, and continues in that same cold, clinical voice. “Unfortunately, it is still rather lacking. I’m looking for a bit more – shall we say, cooperative spirit.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean,” Peter asks without inflection, just barely managing to keep his annoyance under wraps.

A sigh escapes Elias, a soft, disappointed breath, and he shakes his head. “Sometimes you make me wonder if I might not be as clear a communicator as I have always thought myself,” he says. "Then I remember that you are, to put it delicately, not the most intuitive man."

Frustrated, Peter closes his eyes and bites his tongue to keep from saying something he’ll regret. Not that he would regret any bile-covered barbs he could throw in Elias’s face, but he might regret the consequences, especially as Elias has him literally tied up at the moment. “What is your _point,_ Elias?”

“Look at me,” Elias commands, quiet and decisive. He waits for Peter to open his eyes again and meet his gaze before he deigns to elaborate. “You’re going to tell me everything,” he says, and it sounds like a threat. “How you feel, what you want, what you’ll do to get it. You’re going to look me in the eyes and you’re going to use your words, and then, perhaps, you will be remunerated.”

“I hate this game,” Peter grumbles half-heartedly under his breath.

“What was that?” Elias says, cupping his ear in a pantomime of uncertainty. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly.”

“I said I hate this game,” Peter repeats, louder this time. “You _know_ I hate this game, and you’re only doing this because you’re a sick sadist who enjoys making me suffer for the benefit of your voyeuristic patron. It’s disgusting.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Elias’s face while Peter is speaking. “Excellent,” he coos, shifting lower to run his hands along the outsides of Peter’s thighs, feeling the thick, coarse hair with a feather-light touch and relishing the way it makes Peter tremble. So desperate already, and they’ve hardly even begun. 

“Tell me, then,” he continues, “if my using you to feed the Eye is disgusting, what would you call it when you go gallivanting off on your little ship, leaving me here _alone_ for _months,_ without so much as a goodbye?”

"It's my job, Elias."

"So you mean to tell me you don't enjoy it?" Elias quirks one perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. "You want me to believe you don't revel in it?"

Peter sighs, rolling his eyes. "Of course I do," he says testily. "Reveling in it is also part of my job."

"Fair enough," Elias concedes with a small shrug, as if the whole issue is inconsequential. "However, you're not working right now. You're playing my game, and that means following my rules."

Peter simply nods, swallowing hard. "And that means what, exactly?"

Elias sighs, shakes his head in disappointment, splays his fingers out across Peter’s thighs. "You're going to decide what you want,” he answers, exercising a great deal of patience, “and then you're going to _ask_ me for it. And once I’m satisfied with your performance in that regard, then you can sit back and let me play with you."

A moment’s hesitation, and then Peter settles on a game plan. "Fine. I want to fuck you."

Elias frowns, fingertips pressing into Peter’s skin just enough to be uncomfortable. "I think you know that's not enough."

"Don't know what else there is to say,” Peter mutters petulantly, “it's fairly straightforward."

His eyes turning steely and cold, Elias slides his hands up Peter's thighs and rubs his thumbs in circles, digs deep into the muscular flesh, something between a massage and a threat. "I suppose I shall have to talk you through it, then,” he sighs, as if he should have seen this coming. “How should I start, Peter? My hands on your cock? My mouth? Or should I ride your face first, make you get me off with your tongue before I touch you?"

"I like the idea of your mouth on my cock," Peter agrees jovially. "Might shut you up a bit."

“Come now, that’s not very sporting,” Elias tuts, pulling his hands away and leaving Peter’s skin bare without a hint of contact. “Do you need a further reminder of who’s in charge here?”

Peter grits his teeth and very pointedly doesn’t strain against the ropes to beg for Elias’s touch. “No, I’m sure we’re on the same page in that regard. You _know_ what I need.”

“I know what you _want,”_ Elias corrects him. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll simply give it to you.” 

“Elias, I want you to touch my cock,” Peter growls impatiently. “In any way, with any part of you, I don’t care, just touch me, please.”

“Oh? So you would be content if I were to just… stroke you off with my hand and be done with it?” Elias cocks his head curiously, a hand moving slowly toward Peter’s cock, testing him. “You only want to come, and it doesn’t matter how you get there?”

“No,” Peter exclaims, too quickly, too fervently. He’s not sure if that constitutes passing or failing the test. “No, I want – Jesus. I want to fuck you. Your cunt.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to fuck anything,” Elias replies, and there’s something unspoken underneath it, an air of patronizing pity as if to highlight the stupidity of Peter believing he could be an agent of action in this. He feels _chastised_ as Elias pats his hip.

But he wants it. No matter how degrading it is, it’s far outweighed by how badly he _wants_ it. “Fine,” he concedes in a strained voice, “I want you to ride me, then. Use me like a toy to get yourself off, come on my cock.”

Elias smiles at that, clearly pleased with Peter’s honesty and smug about his victory. “And then?”

Now that he’s in it, Peter figures there’s no reason not to keep giving Elias what he wants. After all, it’s not like he’s telling the bastard anything he doesn’t already know. “I want to come in your cunt,” he admits, his dick twitching at the thought. “Want you to ride my cock until you’re all full of me.”

“Hm. And why is that?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I mean _why,”_ Elias drawls without a care in the world. “Why that specific act, why in that specific manner, why… me?”

Peter closes his eyes and blows a breath out through his teeth, low and long, counting to ten in his head. “Ah, I didn’t realize this was about your ego. You want me to tell you that I dream of your body, you’re the only man I have ever wanted, I burn with desire for you.” The colorless tone of Peter’s voice tells Elias far more than the words themselves. He hardly moves his mouth at all as he deadpans, “I ache for you, long for you, yearn for you. Your sexual finesse is unparalleled and I could never be satisfied by anyone else.”

“Well, not if you’re going to say it like that,” Elias snaps sharply at him. “If you won’t take this seriously, I can leave.”

“No, I see, you don’t just want platitudes,” Peter says with a nod of his head. “You want me to explain myself. You want to… _understand_ me,” he sneers, wrinkling his nose at the distasteful notion.

“Yes,” Elias confirms in a cool, even tone.

“I like it when you tie me up and ride me,” says Peter, the statement simple and plain, not giving Elias any more emotion than absolutely necessary. “It’s such a beautifully lonely experience, to just – be unable to do anything but let you take what you want from me. Like I’m not even here except as a means to your pleasure.”

“Flatterer,” Elias interjects.

Peter ignores him. “But then, I like to come inside you, to – leave a stain on you, to mark you as mine,” he confesses, too lost in the thought of it to care about how thoroughly, disgustingly vulnerable he is at the moment. “I like that it always makes you come, too, when I fill you up and you shake apart for me, so fucking tight around my cock, your cunt just milking me dry. I like that, and I like being the only one who gets to do it to you.”

He pauses, looks up to see if that’s enough, but all he gets from Elias is a soft “Hm.”

It’s a bit frustrating, but he’s got plenty more where that came from, so he keeps talking. “And it is _you_ – it’s _because_ it’s you. I mean, part of it is definitely that I love leaving you and knowing that you won’t take any other lovers while I’m gone, even though you could. It’s such a _delicious_ kind of loneliness and you _reek_ of it.”

Elias narrows his eyes. “Right.”

“But it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else,” Peter finally admits. “It would never… be the same. Nobody but you could ever – miss me that much.”

“You’re getting dangerously close,” Elias murmurs.

“I like fucking you because the sex is better with someone who…” Peter stops, grinds his teeth together, and continues in a low, bitter grumble, “someone who _loves_ me.”

“That’s just lovely, my dear,” Elias beams, trails a hand up Peter’s thigh. “What a sweet sentiment. I _do_ love you, you know. And… how do you feel?”

“Hard as a fucking rock,” Peter growls.

Elias tuts at him, has the nerve to look scandalized. “Don’t be crude.”

“I’m naked and tied to your bed and begging you to fuck yourself on my cock," Peter reminds him in a sharp monotone. "I think we’re well past crude.”

Long, thin fingers start to draw intricate patterns across Peter's stomach, his chest, dragging through the thick hair and tracing impossible shapes. "You know very well what I'm waiting for," Elias says, all cool and patient, "and your crass behavior is only dragging this out."

The edge of a blunt nail scratches over Peter's peaked nipple, and he hisses and arches into it before fixing Elias with a glare. "You're really going to make me say it?"

If the look and the tone of his voice does anything to Elias, he doesn't show it. "Darling," he purrs, deceptively soft, "if I can get on my knees and beg you to fuck my mouth, I think you can handle this."

"It's humiliating," Peter bites out, but Elias continues to brush his fingers over Peter's skin, unperturbed and unhurried.

"It's how this works," he states simply.

"It's disgusting," says Peter.

"It's the truth," says Elias.

"I won't say it," Peter tries.

"You will," Elias hums, smooth and sure. He drags his fingernails down Peter's stomach from his ribs to his hip, then takes his cock in hand and begins to stroke it, too gently to really do anything, but enough to drive Peter mad. "If you want to come, then you'll say it. If you refuse – well, I'm sure you would _enjoy_ it if I just rubbed off on your chest or your face, but we both know that's not your _preferred_ outcome."

Peter groans, although it comes out as more of a strained whimper. Elias just… watches him, all shrewd and smug, continues to jerk his cock as teasingly as possible, and waits for him to break.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Peter mumbles under his breath, turning his face into his shoulder. He holds out for longer than he thought he could, but it’s inevitable – Elias squeezes the base of his cock firmly, twists his wrist, and loosens his grip again, and Peter can’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. “Alright, alright, fuck! Fucking hell, Bouchard, I fucking love you, are you happy?”

“Dirty mouth,” Elias chides softly, giving him a coy look through his lashes. “I expect manners from you, Peter.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” Peter replies, trying to keep the sneer out of his voice and off of his face. They do this often enough that he almost doesn’t mind saying it anymore, not that he would ever admit that aloud. It’s bad enough for Elias to know that every word of it is true. “I mean… I care about you. You’re important to me, you’re special, alright? No matter how much I try to make it stop or ignore it or deny it, it won't go away. You've wormed your way into me and taken root like a fucking invasive weed, and I can't get rid of you because I'm in love with you."

Elias licks his lips in a mockery of predation, watching Peter tremble and fume for a few moments. It quickly becomes too much for Peter and he snaps, blurting out more without thinking. "I can't stand this," he says in a rush. "Either fuck me or kill me, Elias, because I can't have said all that for nothing."

Smiling like a snake, Elias leans over him, careful to make as little contact as possible with his skin. "Is it not enough to have done it for me?" he asks.

The faint rush of Elias's breath on his skin is enough to have Peter squirming. "Not a chance," he replies through clenched teeth. "If you don't touch me then I swear my next voyage will be at _least_ two years."

"Well, we certainly can't have that," Elias pouts. He doesn't wait for a response before pushing forward the few centimeters necessary to press his lips against Peter's.

The kiss is smooth and languid, sharp and calculated all at once. Elias moves with precision and purpose, his hands planted firmly on either side of Peter's head, his body rolling down in a wave to come flush with Peter's chest and stomach while he gracefully rearranges his legs to straddle Peter's hips. 

Pressed against him like this, it's hard not to be painfully aware that Elias is still fully dressed. Peter groans into his mouth as Elias licks past his lips, seemingly unbothered by that fact. There's only a small amount of give in Peter's bonds for him to buck his hips and grind against Elias, but apparently it's enough to get his attention, because he nips at Peter's lower lip and pulls away, eyelids heavy and mouth kiss-bruised and red.

"Do you need something, love?" he murmurs, still close enough that his lips brush against Peter's as he speaks.

"Need you," Peter answers without missing a beat. "Need to see you, Elias, please."

Elias smiles, graces him with another quick peck on the lips before retreating completely, pushing up and away from Peter's body in one fluid motion. He rises to his feet right where he is, standing on the bed between Peter's legs, and strips his clothes off efficiently before sinking back down to his knees.

"Better?"

Peter nods, swallows hard in an attempt to alleviate his dry mouth. It doesn't work. Then Elias moves to straddle him again, the soft, hot folds of his cunt rubbing against Peter's cock, and all the air punches out of Peter's lungs in half a second.

When Elias reaches down between his own legs to pull a toy out of his cunt, Peter loses so much blood from his brain that he gets lightheaded. Elias hears the choked gasp that escapes him, looks down at him and holds the thing up to the light to give him a better view of it. It's not too big – smaller than Peter, certainly – sleek and gold with a subtly flared base, and coated in lube. When Elias comes prepared, he comes _prepared._

"How long have you had that in?" Peter asks abruptly, unable to contain his curiosity.

Elias blinks slowly at him, answers nonchalantly as he collects the excess lube from the toy with his fingers. "All day."

Peter might have more to say about that, but suddenly there are far more pressing matters at hand, because Elias is setting the toy aside, taking his cock in hand and slicking him up without warning. He lets out a moan at the unexpected stimulation, then another, low and broken, at the realization that he's being prepared with lube that has already been _inside_ Elias. Disgusting, on some level, but far more than that, it's deeply arousing.

"Like that, do you?" Elias says, more smug observation than question. He doesn't expect Peter to answer, and Peter knows this. Elias is the one to talk in bed so Peter doesn't have to. 

There's no great preamble to the main event once Elias has decided to do it. He raises up onto his knees, braced on either side of Peter's hips, and positions the head of Peter's cock at the entrance of his cunt before sinking down onto him in one smooth, leisurely motion. Peter meets him with a cheeky thrust upward, but it goes unacknowledged as Elias grinds his hips down, clenching around Peter's cock deliciously. 

He rests for a moment when he's fully seated on Peter's cock, closes his eyes and places his hands flat on Peter's chest. "I forget how _big_ you are," he murmurs breathlessly. "Feels good. You feel good inside me."

Unthinking, almost on instinct, Peter tries to touch Elias, to put hands on his hips or his tits or his ass or any part of his body at all. He pulls up short and hisses at the strain against the ropes around his wrists, groans in frustration when he remembers that he _can't_ touch.

Elias laughs at him, a soft little breath of a chuckle, strokes his thumbs lightly over his nipples. Peter's not even through shuddering at the touch before Elias pinches them between his fingers and rolls his hips down at the same time, making Peter gasp and bow his back. 

"My _word,_ you're responsive," Elias mutters appreciatively. "I do so enjoy playing with you."

Peter huffs, a strong breath that ruffles the hair on his chest, and frowns up at Elias. He knows better than to challenge Elias now, knows it's best to let him play this out the way he wants. Elias waits a long moment, studying his face, and apparently decides he approves of Peter's restraint. 

"Perfect," he whispers with a twinkle in his eye. “Do me a favor and keep that up, will you? There’s a good boy.”

It’s not like Peter can do much else in his current position, but still the condescension makes him whine and squirm. Elias rolls his hips again, relishing the sound it punches out of Peter’s chest, and then lifts himself up before fucking back down onto Peter’s cock.

His eyes – those piercing blue eyes that always see right through Peter’s walls – are closed, as if in meditation, as he raises himself slowly. Some of his calm and composure wavers when he drops down, the quick motion knocking a shaking breath from the depths of his chest, his mouth hanging open. Peter whimpers softly at the abruptness of it, but Elias keeps moving, unheeding.

The rhythm he sets is brutal and efficient, as little as possible of the strict up and down motion that puts such a strain on his thighs, focusing his movements more in the rolling of his hips and the strategic clenching of his cunt. Elias knows just how to wring every desperate little noise out of Peter, how to bring him just to the edge and then stop, infuriatingly, right before he comes. He smiles every time Peter lets out that frustrated groan, teeth so unnaturally sharp and bright that even to look at them feels like being bitten.

Peter doesn’t say anything, no matter what Elias does to him. He makes the sounds that Elias wants to hear, but he doesn’t use words, not here, not now. He doesn’t even know what he would say if he had that freedom – which, technically, he does, but there’s an understanding between them that he doesn’t feel the need to challenge.

Elias makes intermittent comments, mostly to himself – or, if he’s talking to Peter, it’s not with any expectation of getting a reply. Between soft sighs of satisfaction and high, wanton moans, he murmurs a string of filthy phrases that knock the wind out of Peter every time without fail.

“It’s so nice when you’re good for me,” he says, passive aggressive even through his breathlessness. “I do somewhat prefer it when you’re actually present and active, but I suppose needs must when you’re in one of your moods.” Elias pauses, leans down over Peter’s body until his mouth is at Peter’s ear, his fingers trailing up to wrap around his wrists and tug at the ropes as he whispers, “Maybe some _discipline_ will take care of your obstinance. I may have to escalate the consequences if you can’t behave yourself in future.”

Peter hisses at the pull and the chafe of his wrists, arches his back to press fully against Elias, skin on skin at every possible point of contact. At this angle, he’s not as deep inside Elias as before, but it’s worth it for the hot breath on his neck and the smooth expanse of Elias’s chest and stomach and arms touching his. 

Apparently thinking the same thing, Elias shifts his hips back and forth a bit, experimentally trying to gauge whether it’s too difficult to keep going in this position. “You’re doing very well right now, though,” he assures Peter with a condescending smile. “All you need to do is lie still and stay quiet and let me use your body. Simple instructions, since you couldn’t handle the responsibility of fucking me right.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, of course, just tightens around Peter’s cock and moans indulgently. “Oh, that’s good, isn’t it?” he breathes against Peter’s skin. “I could use you for hours, take whatever I want from you. I could come on your cock a dozen times and leave you hard and desperate until I’m finished with you.”

Peter whines as his cock is released by a few inches and engulfed again in the tight grip of Elias’s cunt, and that’s encouragement enough for Elias to smile against his throat and repeat the motion, fucking himself back on Peter’s cock with renewed vigor. 

“I miss this when you’re gone,” Elias pants out between rough thrusts of his hips. “I touch myself and I try to make it feel like this, but it could never hold a candle to having you here, all laid out for me. So big and handsome and obedient and _mine.”_

His hands move to Peter’s shoulders, fingertips digging into the meat there, tight enough to bruise. As Peter gasps and writhes at the sensation, the delicious pain and the soft heat of Elias’s cunt around him, Elias noses along his jawline, tongues at his throat before sucking hard at his pulse point, leaving an angry purple mark blooming in his wake.

Moving back up until his lips brush the shell of Peter’s ear, Elias continues in a devious whisper. “Sometimes I lie here for _hours,”_ he says, “all alone in this big, empty bed, and I fuck myself on one of my toys and I try to imagine that it’s you, but it’s never the same.”

Peter cries out at that, a loud, shameless moan, and Elias just keeps going. “You like that, don’t you? Like the thought of me trying so _hard_ to fill up the space where you’re missing from me, dripping with want, stuck with nothing but my loneliness and those facsimiles of human touch?”

“God, Elias,” Peter says, his voice coming out rough with arousal and disuse. “I’m going to come if you keep that up.”

“Isn’t that the point, Peter?” Elias asks with a wicked smile. 

“Yes,” answers Peter after a beat of hesitation, “but I thought you deserved some warning.”

“How sweet of you,” Elias says, not a trace of irony in his tone.

Before Peter can say anything else, Elias redoubles his efforts, pushes himself back up to settle his hands flat on Peter’s torso for leverage as he bounces on his cock. He gets a good handful of Peter’s hairy, muscled chest, squeezes gently and grazes a knuckle across one of his nipples to see the shiver that goes through him. He moves in relative quiet for a few long moments, just heavy breaths and skin on skin, doesn’t speak again until he senses that Peter is right on the edge.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” he murmurs, soft and commanding.

“I want to touch you,” Peter answers, the words leaving him before he’s even conscious of the desire. “Want to make you come, make you fall apart for me over and over and _over.”_

Elias smiles and nods his approval, apparently satisfied with the answer, but doesn’t press for more or respond directly to what Peter’s said. Instead, he simply says, “Come for me, darling.”

Peter does. Instantaneously, like magic, like physiological stimuli and biological functions are secondary and the only factor that truly matters is whether or not Elias _wants_ him to come. He makes a sound like all the breath leaving him in a rush, bucks his hips up as much as he can, tenses every muscle all the way down to his toes as he spills inside the tight wet heat of Elias’s cunt.

At the first hot burst of come inside him, Elias drops his jaw in a silent gasp of pleasure and grinds his hips down against Peter’s, clenches down on his cock and draws out Peter’s orgasm while chasing his own. It doesn’t take more than a few messy, uncoordinated thrusts grinding his clit against Peter’s pelvis before he tips over the edge as well.

His orgasm hits him in waves, pulling three long, high moans from his chest as he comes on Peter’s cock. The intense stimulation, coupled with the sounds Elias is letting out and the picture he makes with his hair mussed and his head thrown back, forces a low whine from Peter’s throat, and he strains against his bonds as he bows his back dramatically.

Elias gasps and pants through the aftershocks, his cunt involuntarily clenching tight around Peter’s softening dick as he rides it out. Only when Peter takes a sharp, choked inhale, tears in his eyes, does Elias finally pull off of him, swinging his leg over to kneel by Peter’s hip.

Peter watches with heavily lidded eyes as Elias leans away to do something he can’t see, moving in a curious manner. He lifts his head and opens his eyes to get a better look, just in time to see Elias with that gold plug in his hand, businesslike and unaffected, sliding it back inside himself as if it’s nothing.

“Fucking hell,” Peter mutters under his breath, his spent cock twitching at the sight. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Furrowing his brow, Elias looks over and down at him with a feigned expression of innocent confusion. “Of course not,” he replies, his tone tinged with a hint of shock and hurt, and then he lowers his voice and purrs, smooth and dark, “I want to keep you inside me.”

As Peter tries to regain his breath, Elias moves nimbly to untie his wrists and ankles with deft fingers. By the time he’s finished, Peter’s recovered enough to make use of his newfound freedom of movement, pushing up onto his hands and pouncing, pinning Elias to the bed beneath the bulk of his body.

“You did this on purpose,” he growls, hungry and frantic, between mouthing over every inch of Elias’s skin that he can reach. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Elias says breathlessly.

“You _knew,”_ Peter hisses into his ear, then moves to suck a mark under his jaw before continuing, “that you were winding me up. You _made_ me want you like this.”

Licking his lips in a manner that somehow reeks of defiance, Elias tilts his head back to give Peter better access to his jaw and throat. “Well, yes,” he answers, his curt voice strained just the slightest bit. “When I took you to bed, I did so in the hopes that you would become aroused and desire me as I desire you.”

Peter groans in frustration and bites down hard on the juncture of Elias’s neck and shoulder, grinning at the sharp gasp it elicits from him. “You know what I mean, you insufferable prick. You knew that not letting me touch you would make me want to touch you.”

It takes a long moment for Elias to respond, possibly due to the distraction of Peter’s hot tongue laving over the marks left by his teeth. “Perhaps,” he admits in a shaky breath, “but if you’ll recall, I had to tie you down because _you_ weren’t behaving yourself.”

“You were antagonizing me,” Peter mutters against Elias’s skin as he travels down to lick and suck at his collarbone. “You were playing me the whole time, because you _wanted_ me to be so eager to draw this out, to taste you as soon as I could, to show you that you’re mine.”

“Yes, well. You know you don’t _have_ to –,” Elias cuts off with a moan as Peter wraps his lips around one nipple and sucks, playing over the other with the pad of his thumb.

“But I’m going to,” Peter replies dangerously, his hot breath blowing over the wet trail left by his mouth. “I’m going to mark you up, Bouchard, leave you with my teeth marks and bruises all over – it’s only fair I pay you back in kind, don’t you think?”

Elias lets his eyes rove down the length of Peter’s body, taking in the mess of hickeys scattered across his broad torso. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do,” Peter answers without hesitation. “I insist on leaving my mark on every part of you, inside and out, and then I’ll make you come for me again.”

“Is that a threat?” Elias asks playfully, amusement clear on his face.

“Just a statement of fact,” says Peter, right before taking Elias’s nipple between his teeth and biting down hard enough to make him cry out. “I’m going to make damn sure you think of _this_ next time you’re spread open around a toy and wishing it was me.”

And then, before Elias can think of anything witty to say, Peter slithers down the length of his torso to lie between his legs, immediately setting to work with his teeth and lips and tongue on the sensitive skin everywhere but where Elias wants it. He places one hand flat on Elias’s stomach and holds him down when he tries to buck into the heat of Peter’s mouth. He drags on, takes his time littering rough bites and bruises across Elias’s sharp hipbones and his inner thighs before moving inward.

The hot, soft press of Peter’s tongue between his folds is enough to make Elias twitch and whimper, hands flying to Peter’s hair. Undeterred, Peter slides his free hand up the inside of Elias’s thigh to push on the base of the plug in his cunt as he licks at his hole stretched around it. He’s distantly aware of Elias trying to say something, but it doesn’t even approach real words. 

Peter’s thick, rough fingers rubs circles over Elias’s lower stomach as he continues to fruitlessly attempt to thrust and grind against his face. Elias pulls his hair, vicious and petulant, and Peter repays him with a sharp nip of his teeth, taking the outer flesh of Elias’s slick cunt in his mouth and tugging vindictively. The pleasure and pain mingle perfectly and Elias releases his hold on Peter’s hair to grasp at the sheets instead.

He’s panting now, breaths coming hot and sharp and fast as Peter finally, finally moves to swirl his tongue in tight circles around Elias’s clit. He _almost_ manages to gasp out Peter’s name – in desperation or pleasure, it’s unclear – but then Peter wraps his lips around his clit and sucks on it insistently, hungrily.

High, choked moans gradually devolve into bitten-off whines as Peter sucks and licks him through one orgasm, then another, without letting up. The tense arch of Elias’s back just manages to emphasize the feeling of the thick plug in his hole, forcing a whimper from him. His thighs clamp tight around Peter’s head, relaxing after the wave of his last orgasm subsides enough for him to breathe properly.

Satisfied, Peter kisses a trail up Elias’s stomach, the center of his chest, ending at his mouth with a deep, firm press of his lips and tongue. Elias kisses him back, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck and opening his mouth to let him in, humming pleasantly into his mouth for several long seconds before Peter pulls away.

“Are you happy now?” he asks, aiming for an irritated tone but landing somewhere firmly in the neighborhood of fond instead. 

“Very,” Elias replies with a nod of his head. “But we’re not done yet.”

“Yes, I know,” Peter sighs, exasperated. “I know the deal.”

Elias smiles at him, genuine and warm, and rolls over onto his side, pulling Peter along with him. Peter puts up a token amount of resistance but gives in without any further complaint, shuffling closer until his chest is flush with Elias’s back, snaking an arm around his torso, which Elias immediately takes for an invitation to hold his hand.

“You’re awful,” Peter whispers, then brushes a gentle kiss along the shell of Elias’s ear.

Lifting their joined hands to his mouth, Elias presses a similarly tender kiss to Peter’s palm and murmurs against his skin, soft as anything, “I know.”


End file.
